Children
by alan713ch
Summary: With a dead body in the morgue, bled to death and its heart ripped out, the Beacon Hills Guardians have to take the threat of incoming supernatural menaces more seriously. Episode 2 of my alternate 3B
1. Prologue

Isaac was panting. At least this time Allison was panting as well. It had been the first time he had actually kept with her level.

He felt like a pansy ass werewolf because she had defeated him every single time.

This was their relationship. Go to school, hang out, get in her car, let her drive all the way to the preserve, and spar. Spar until their foreheads sweat, spar until their bones ache, spar until they couldn't move anymore.

Because they wanted to move more and they couldn't do that to Scott.

So they fought. It was physical, it was emotional, and it was as close as they were going to get.

For the first couple of times, Allison had handed his ass so well he actually felt guilty. Like he was wasting her time. She assured him that he wasn't, and told him how she had defeated her. You are too slow. You are telegraphing your movements. You raised your leg here, letting me know you were going to use that flank. Your parkour moves may look impressive, but all you are doing is telling me what direction you intend to attack me from. You touched me in the side attempting to distract me.

I wanted you to touch me more.

She didn't say it out loud, but he could feel it. He could smell it. The desire. The hunger. The need.

And how wrong it was. How wrong they both felt about it.

So they kept sparring. It was all they could do.

He would go with her and make sure she was alright back at home. The nights she smelled like fear he would jump through her window, and like a good guard dog he would sleep on the floor, and hold her close when she started whimpering. The darkness, she called it, a darkness that was hanging close to her heart.

That had been the price to pay in order to find their parents. Like turning themselves into the guardians of an ancient stump was not good enough, they also had to carry a shadow in their hearts. It didn't sound fair at all.

And it was something she would never be able to share with him.

Scott would always look at him when he had to stay. He wouldn't say anything but he knew that he could smell her on him. He could never tell what his expression meant - was he sad about it? Jealous? Proud?

He would just lie to Ms. McCall - Melissa, he had to remember that - and say that he had spent the night in the house. That everything was OK. That everything was back to normal.

Isaac knew she knew Scott was lying.

One day Melissa had come to him and asked him directly. He bit his lip and hemmed and hawed about it, and almost like his own mom had done when she still lived she managed to deduce a fair amount of the information just by looking at him. Between the little signals she had understood and the coercion that followed he had told her everything, and expected to be kicked out. He never expected her to hug him and tell him that while it was their choice how to continue with their relationship, at least they owed it to Scott to tell him when things got real.

And that's why he would never dare to make things real with Allison. Because he wouldn't betray his Alpha.

Because he wouldn't dare to talk to him. To have that conversation.

So they kept sparring. It was all he dared to do.

But tonight she wanted more. He could smell it in her. He could feel it in her, with every punch, with every kick, with every breath.

And he gave up. He gave in. A hit became a touch, a scrape became a caress, an attack became a kiss and they were not fighting anymore, they were kissing, they were loving, they were letting the hormones take over and the sensations take control.

And while he, Isaac, was enjoying it, a part inside of him - the wolf - whined quietly. Because the wolf knew that the Alpha wouldn't be happy about this.

And the wolf wanted the Alpha more than he wanted Allison.


	2. Stiles

"So you met this girl."

"Yes, dad."

"At a bookstore."

"Yes, dad."

"When you were carrying books on magic, witchcraft, druid rituals and immortal beings."

"Yes, dad."

"Stiles, I know I am still learning a lot about the supernatural goings of this town, but do you think it's wise that you start dating someone who doesn't know?"

"Oh my God, dad! I can't spend all my life waiting to meet someone who already knows everything about the supernatural! Besides, the only ones available are Allison who I think is going out with Isaac now, I don't know, I need to ask what's going on there, and Lydia, who I have finally got over and I do not want to date right now. Besides, I was just telling you that I met her in the library and I didn't even got her name but a girl talked to me and she's pretty and she was chewing gum and was talking about how wrong it is to use magic to get your loved one and -"

"Stiles! Focus!"

"OK, ok. All that I'm saying is that she may be in the know, or at least know that magic is real. She sounded pretty confident."

His dad just pinched his nose like whenever he managed to reach his limit of patience. But that wasn't important - important was the fact that he had met a girl!

Wait, had he? He still didn't know her name!

But she had definitely been flirting with him, right?

Oh God, his experience with girls was next to non existent.

Lydia, he needed to call Lydia and ask her about it.

Almost as if on cue, Lydia came through the kitchen door, followed by Allison. Not a second later Scott and Isaac came through as well.

"Wait, what's going on?"

"You didn't hear it? Lydia wailed a couple hours ago. Scott, didn't you call him?"

"He was not picking up, apparently he met a girl."

Scott was grinning at him even if he tried to kill him with a glare.

"I also went to pick up Isaac and see what my mom could tell us. She's still on shift, she can't come. Is your dad coming?"

"No - he's preparing some stuff, apparently we have some hunters coming through."

"So you wailed? Are you OK?"

"Yes, Stiles, I'm fine now. We were at the mall, and thankfully someone else found the body - it was in the dumpsters. Not us alone, no need to spin something to the cops if we had to call 911 - the hardest thing to do was to fend off Danny and Alex after they gave their declarations. Danny in particular was freaked out. Allison managed to convince them we were fine."

"Yeah, poor Alex, first day around us and he's already seen the kind of stuff we put up with."

"Did he see you wail? Did he hear you?"

"No - neither did. I heard her but it was distant, so I presume it is because we are pack. And I was relatively close, compared to you, for example."

"Yeah. Besides, we don't know if the bookstore's guarded - it may be. Oh! The bookkeeper told me to give you these books, Lydia, apparently she gave you the run of the mill stuff, not the good stuff. They are in my backpack."

"I'll take them later. Right now we have a body - what do we know?"

"Well, male, 32, no particulars about him, that is no moles, no scars, no nothing. He looked very non-descript, except for the big gash through his neck and the hole in his chest."

"Ew."

"So he was bled to death? Wait, how long had he been dead, then?"

"At least eight hours, based on the rigor mortis."

"So he died early in the morning or last night, and you wailed until this afternoon? Don't you usually wail as soon as the person dies? Weren't you try to learn how to wail before it happened?"

Lydia was about to retort at him when she stopped and analyzed the question.

"That's a very good point, Stiles."

"What do you mean? I'm still trying to follow."

"Well, Mr. Sheriff, I am an omen of Death. Well, my screaming is. When I scream and go in automatic mode is to find a body that had died not even thirty minutes ago. The kid I found in the pool was still warm, the deputy in the school was still bleeding, and I wailed a couple minutes before the piano chord killed Ms. Johnson. As a matter of fact, you can say that I wail when the death happens, barely a minute before and particularly not eight hours later."

"So does this means that you wailed for someone else?"

"No - I was compelled to go to that man's body. I wanted to go there."

Stiles was thinking of all the possibilities but nothing made sense. He immediately went to his backpack and took out the books he had received on banshees - it was the only clue they had.

"So far we know that this guy died involved in something supernatural, but we don't know what. We know that you wail as soon as someone dies in something supernatural, so we can assume that something was preventing you from getting the message. The question is what, and how does it relate to this guy's death."

"Isaac, did you get a good whiff at the body?"

"Yeah, Scott, why?"

"Then you and I are going to see if we can get a trail - if he was moved or anything, it might give us something to look for. Sheriff, is the area still cordoned?"

"Yeah, and there'll probably be someone - and if your father thinks this is related to whatever goose chase he's now on there'll be a couple feds as well."

"Then we'll have to hide. We're still going anyways, we might see something before it gets too late."

Isaac nodded and both of them left. His dad looked mortified for sending teenagers to a crime scene, but Stiles smiled at him with a 'Don't worry' expression.

"Don't you dare to tell me not to worry. It's wrong that you have to spend so much time in crime scenes."

"Nah, we're used to it."

"I'm not!"

"Well, Lydia isn't. So, how do we wanna do research? Sorry for ruining your day, by the way."

"You didn't ruin it, Stiles, don't mention it. I don't know - Allison, you got anything from your father's contacts?"

"Not yet, he said he was trying to get some old family that had some good records and bestiaries, but they hadn't got back to him yet."

"So we are stuck with the books at hand right now, which all of them are here. Do you mind if we take some? Allison, do you mind if I sleep at your place tonight? I don't like being alone when I wail, and my mom isn't in town right now."

"Not tonight - I'm sorry, but like I said, my dad has some hunters in town and he's still not comfortable with the idea of us interacting with that side of the story."

"I guess that means you can't come and crash with me either, can you?"

"No... I'm so sorry!"

"You can crash here if you need to."

Both girls looked at him questioningly. His dad raised an eyebrow. Scott and Isaac grinned at him. He stammered.

"I need girl advice!"

Now the girls raised their eyebrows while his dad facepalmed so hard it made a really weird noise.

"So Scott was not joking?"

"No - he probably heard me talking to my dad about it."

The sudden change in their expression was frightening. Allison was flat-out squealing while Lydia was giving him a look that he had never seen before. A look of approval.

His father just left the room muttering something about an early shift tomorrow. Scott and Isaac walked out the kitchen, eager to begin their investigation.

"You have to tell us everything!"

"I'm not even sure how it happened. I'm not even sure what happened! I was at the bookstore and I crashed on this girl and we talked and I swear to god she was flirting with me. She was! Even if it was short and fast and I didn't know what was going on at the time but now that I look back at it I'm definitely sure she was flirting."

"What's her name?"

"Er... she didn't give it. I told her mine!"

"Stiles!"

"I don't know!"

"She may be a flirt, but that doesn't mean she likes you."

"Way to destroy my hopes, Lydia."

"I'm trying to warn you. I don't want you becoming in one of those guys that confuse a smile with an opportunity to talk to a girl to her death. I know you won't do anything worse but still, boundaries."

Stiles just looked rejected. Allison looked at Lydia like she was crazy, like saying 'this is not what you say to a friend that is hopefully crushing on someone' and immediately picked up the conversation.

"Ignore her - what was she like? What did you talk about? Because there must've been something that turned it from 'I like this girl' to 'this girl may be into me'. C'mon, spill!"

"Well, she said she practices magic, so we can say she's a witch, I guess, and that means that she may go to the bookstore more times? And I don't know her from before, so she may be new in town?"

"Hm. New in town, and practices magic?"

"Lydia, where is your mind going?"

"Nowhere. Nowhere. I'm happy that you found something Stiles, but until you have a name and a phone number, don't get too excited."

Stiles gave up. He wouldn't argue against that.

Except he put his hands in his pockets, and in the right one there was a piece of paper he didn't remember having put in there.

It was rumpled and white and it had a phone number beginning with a 206 under an underlined name. Lorena.

"Is that...?"

He just nodded, his jaw on the floor.

The squealing of both girls at the same time made his father yell from upstairs asking if everything was alright.

"Oh my god what do I do What do I do WHAT DO I DO?"

"Wait. Don't call her or text her right now, it's late. Wait until tomorrow - not at six am, for Pete's sake - and text her. You need to confirm that it is you and not some creeper and that you didn't notice she had slipped her number in your front pocket - how did she do that? - and build up slowly. If she responds and seems to continue flirting call her by the end of the day. Ask her out. And if she says yes, you call us."

"Why?"

"Because we are dressing you. No way is one of Lydia Martin's friends going to a date dressed in plaid."

"Lydia!"


	3. Isaac

The wolf inside him relished in the fact that he was hugging his Alpha. Isaac was just blushing under the helmet.

They only had the bike and Scott would never ask Stiles for the jeep - it was part of their bro code - so they had to make do. Scott had said that he didn't mind - it was not the first time - and Isaac had pointedly kept his arms above waist height. Not that he wanted his arms to go anywhere.

Right?

The ride was uneventful all the way to the mall. They parked a couple of streets away on purpose, hiding in the nearby alleys, trying to get a picture of the situation before they encountered any cop or FBI agent. As the Sheriff had predicted there was the car Mr. McCall had been renting, and pausing to hear they both picked up on his conversation with some of the deputies that were still stationed there. Mr. McCall was asking what seemed to be stock questions, so they didn't worry much. Scott motioned Isaac and he started walking around, trying to pick the scent of the man he had seen in the hospital earlier. He picked up something, but from the position where they were they immediately deduced it was from the ambulance that took the body to the morgue. Besides that, he couldn't find it.

They waited until they could get closer.

"So, Isaac... you and Allison?"

Isaac immediately recoiled. But Scott was not angry. Just curious.

"I... We haven't done anything. We just spar. Most of the time."

Scott looked at him with that expression he used whenever he sneaked in the house late.

"Isaac, are you afraid of me?"

The wolf whined. Isaac didn't do anything.

"Isaac? Why would you be? Have I done something wrong?"

"No! It's just... I know you are not over Allison, and if you want her..."

"Isaac, stop right there. First of all, if Allison wants to date you she's her own woman and has every right to do so, and if I were to say anything against it she would cut my balls off. Second, it doesn't matter if I want her or not, if you want to go out with her you should try and ask her. I've seen her very interested in you."

"Would... would that affect our... friendship?"

"Why would it? Yes, I'll be jealous of you and yes, I'll be sullen for a while, but we are not friends because of Allison and I'd be a sucky Alpha if I let something as petty as jealousy create a rift in my pack."

The wolf still whined, but Isaac felt a bit more comfortable. He even managed to answer Scott's smile with a little of his own.

"It... It's the first time a girl has shown interest in me."

"Isaac..."

"My dad used to say that I would never be enough for a girl."

Scott's expression, oddly, changed from the quick smile that he would give him every time, to one that wanted to say 'I know'. He wasn't looking at him, though, but at the man who was now departing from the scene in his very obviously FBI car.

"He never beat me, or even raised his voice at me. I was excited about living with him, you know? I did - right after the divorce. The part of me that was looking up to him too much believed that it was all my mom's fault that they couldn't get along, but it had been him. Just like your dad, I guess, I was never good enough. Which, I know I'm not the sharpest knife in the kitchen, but boy was he disappointed. He insisted that I lived with him, that my mom was keeping me from reaching my full potential. If he only knew..."

"I lived with him for six months. They were hell. I had to be studying, I had to be doing sports, I had to be my best at everything. I even got a huge asthma attack once because he insisted I should play more. My mom went ballistic. Then he had an special assignment and he brought me back, with the plan of coming back for me. Not even a month of living with my mom again I realized that she was the good guy in the situation, and I let him know that I was going to stay with her. It got nasty. He was furious, thinking that somehow my mom had managed to sway me to her favor or something, or that maybe she was holding me against my will, I don't know. They got into a huge court battle. I had psychologists talking to me and all that jazz. It costed my mom a lot of money - there's a reason why she works so many shifts at the clinic, and why I go to Deaton's - it left her -us- underwater. We almost lost the house. That's why I started working as soon as I was able to - I wanted to give back to my mom."

Scott was crying silently. Isaac didn't know what to do, so he just went to put his hand on his friend's shoulder. Scott grabbed it.

"I see you, you know? You are still scared of her, and a bit of me. Like you think we are not real. I've seen how it takes you a couple seconds before you can take her caress, or how sometimes you flinch back when you think you've done something wrong."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She cries about it. She wonders what kind of monster your dad was that you can't even feel the kindness of a hug."

The wolf inside him was howling now, like an old wound had been opened. Isaac himself didn't know what to say. He had always thought of the McCalls as some sort of idyllic family and that he was more than lucky to be accepted in their home. He had to be careful - he didn't want to be alone again.

Apparently Scott felt something and clutched his hand more tightly.

They stayed there for a moment, not saying anything. Isaac understood. And he knew that Scott understood too.

Somehow Isaac felt his wolf enjoying the touch, almost like the two wolves were cuddling each other. And for a moment Isaac was the wolf and he was enjoying it as well.

What was going on with him?

Scott was the first to break the contact - both deputies got in the cruiser they were sharing and left the scene. A minute later - just to make sure they were not coming back - they went straight ahead.

"Do you smell it?"

"I can trace the path the ambulance took. C'mon."

Isaac let his nose guide them until they reached the dumpsters. He sniffed around, trying to get where had the body come from. Problem was -

"Scott?"

"Yeah?"

"It's... it's like the smell comes from here. Like it suddenly appeared here. It doesn't come from anywhere, and it only goes into the direction we assumed is from the hospital, unless they brought him from that same route as well?"

"What?"

"I don't know - maybe they brought it in some sort of container or something?"

"We'd still be able to smell it - at least, smell the place where they opened the container. You don't think they opened it inside the dumpster, do you?"

"No, kinda small for a container to be opened. And it would have to be a big container to mask it."

"Can you... Can you try and guess for how long has the scent been here?"

Isaac closed his eyes and let the wolf take the scent in.

"It's pretty strong, so not long. Definitely this afternoon, but not earlier."

"So this scent not only appeared out of nowhere, but it seems that Lydia's wailing wasn't able to detect this death until it actually appeared here. This is definitely creepy."

"Tell me about it."


	4. Allison

"Dad! I'm home!"

She closed the apartment's door. Her father came out of the kitchen, eating pie.

"Where did that come from?"

"The family that called me up to do a whole security check, the Warrens, they gave it to me when I left them."

"This is not your payment, is it?"

"No, no - it was more like a goodbye gift. Do you want some?"

"No, I'm good."

"Are you sure? It's just a piece of pie, it's not gonna kill you."

"I know, I'm just not in the mood for pie right now."

"Alright. Are you ready?"

"I guess..."

"Allison, remember: you are the leader. You are the one that has to talk to them, even if you have to ask for my counsel."

Allison nodded. Her dad smiled at her, giving her confidence, but she still wasn't sure of her supposed role as the leader.

They were two men and one woman, all around his father's age. The men deferred to Anastasia, the same way her father deferred to Allison, staying a couple of steps behind them. She was surprisingly pleasant, making small talk all the way through, asking her about college, about archery, even about boys. She answered her, dodging most of the dangerous parts and wondering if there was some sort of trap in her words.

"So, what are your plans in Beacon Hills, Anastasia?"

"We are just passing by. We are on our way north, to Seattle - we've heard there's a coven of witches trying to gain power, and we want to scout the territory before anything bad happens."

"Witches?"

"Yes. They are usually good people with good intentions, and they tend to take care of themselves if something goes wrong, but we've been hearing rumours of a coven trying to gain power. They usually don't chase anyone, but this is ticking our radar."

"Rumors? When did they start?"

"Oh, a month ago, perhaps? They say that all the supernatural community was shaken down by some sort of magic wave that happened then. A sanctuary woken, if I recall correctly."

"A sanctuary woken?"

"That's what they called it, Ms. Argent." His name was Tyson and he looked so much like Boyd she committed his name to memory just so she wouldn't mess it up. "There are legends and stories that places in the world can act as Beacons of the creatures of the night, an energy that all of them feel attracted to. Apparently one of those places was just reactivated and now there are factions willing to fight for it."

"What do you mean by factions?"

"According to legend, these places have great power that can be harnessed. When such a place is activated it can be claimed by anyone as long as there are no guardians to defend it."

"And what if there are guardians?"

"It can be stolen. The guardians are not permanent until a trial has been done."

"What kind of trial?"

"I don't know, Ms. Argent."

"Tyson, how do you know all this?"

"My mother was a witch, Anastasia. As a matter of fact, that's how she met my father - he was hunting a Wendigo and he almost died. She helped him kill it."

"I thought she was a nurse."

"She met him at the hospital. She recognized the wounds."

"And where is this sanctuary located, according to these rumors?"

"Well, that's why we came to you, Allison. According to what we've heard the place is located here, in Beacon Hills."

"So... there were guardians of this place before? Didn't you say they are permanent, Tyson?"

"Yes, I did. If the sanctuary guardians had been judged proper, that is. It would be a family, most probably, or a coven of witches. No, not witches - they wouldn't have let the power die in the first place. So a family, that would've lost their responsibility among the family stories and bedtime tales. It's not the withering of the power what would be concerning - sanctuaries like these go to sleep and wake up all the time. It's the fact that it was not done by any of its guardians what made it so tempting for other creatures. It means there's a window where it is free for all."

"What if the guardians were killed?"

"That wouldn't wake up the sanctuary. It would just wither and die, unless something else came and woke it up."

"Didn't you just fight a Darach, Allison?"

"Yes, we did. My father helped."

"Well, a darach sounds like a good candidate to have woken up the sanctuary. After all, darachs are very weak creatures, dependent on the power they can take from somewhere else. I wouldn't be surprised if she had managed to accomplish all her sacrifices. In that case, she would be the guardian."

"But then it would be a huge mess, if it's true that the witches in Seattle are coming down here to fight for it."

"Why?"

"Just think about it, Allison - two creatures of magic fighting in the middle of a populated area. Massacres would follow."

"Didn't you get rid of the darach?"

"We did."

"Then the witches would have free access to the sanctuary."

"Don't worry about it, Allison, we'll go ahead and see what we can do. If they are coming here we'll let you know in advance and we'll make sure that you are prepared."

"I am not concerned about them coming or us not being prepared. I am concerned about the fact that something got rid of the previous guardians, and the intentions of these witches. When someone actively looks for this kind of power no good intentions are in their mind."

"Spoken like a true sage. You've trained her well, Chris."

"It was all work of her mother, Anastasia."

The hunters exchanged more pleasantries with them and departed in good standing. As soon as they were gone - she waited until she saw the car leaving the parking lot - she looked at her father.

"It was the Hales, wasn't it? The Hales were the guardians before us, Scott, Stiles and I."

"I don't know."

"Think about it - an ancient family settled down in this place, generations younger thinking that their ancestors were joking about guarding a Nemeton as a sanctuary of power, obliterated by the obsession of my dear Aunt Kate, which left if open for Ms. Blake to grab it before we did by becoming the guardians - that explains why she tried to get her little vendetta here instead of wherever else she was. Which means that we have to fight whatever comes our way trying to get to the power of the Nemeton just because Deaton couldn't think of any other way to counter act her. I'm starting to think there is something larger at play, dad."

"Allison, don't you think you may be overreacting a little bit? We don't even know if the Hales were truly the guardians of the Nemeton."

"You just don't want to believe that what Kate did would have so many consequences."

The words were bitter in her mouth. She could no longer think of her aunt as the best friend that had basically grown up with her. All she could think of now was the murderer that had obliterated a family just because they were werewolves. She saw the pain she had caused her father in the grey of his eyes and went to hug him immediately.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"No, it's OK, I get it."

"I'm scared, Dad. I wake up every other night because I have nightmares, of spirits and demons and sorcerers coming to kill me and Scott and Stiles and now that it all seems to come back to her. I... I..."

"Hush. No need to explain. I understand."

"No you don't. No matter how hard you want to believe you do you don't. I can't... Why us? What did we do to deserve this? When did someone decide to dump all this responsibility on us? On Scott? On me? We're teenagers, dad! We are children!"

His father just held her while she was breaking down, the darkness in her heart rejoicing in her despair.


	5. Melissa

Melissa looked at old Ms. Josie. She was finally sleeping - it had been very difficult to get her to sleep, saying that the darkness would overcome her. She had rejected most of the drugs. Only Melissa herself talking to the old woman had calmed her down to let the drowsiness take over her. She kept saying that Melissa was an angel, that there wouldn't be anything wrong if she went to sleep as long as she was around. And as sweet as that was Melissa also needed food and sleep, so she was ending her shift and leaving the hospital. Hopefully Scott hadn't forgotten to leave her some food this time - she should've realized way earlier that he was a werewolf, eating all that food - and she could only nuke it and go to bed.

"Hello, Melissa."

"Oh, hey John. What are you doing here?"

"I checked with Scott and apparently there is no food at your place. Since I have to report to you about what we discussed last night I was wondering if you would accept an invitation to breakfast? Besides the boys are all asleep and it's a Saturday, they won't wake up in a while."

"Scott!"

"I know. If you want something healthy we can always go back to my place and have Stiles cook for you, but to be honest I was wondering if I could tempt you with a trip to Minnie's? Stiles doesn't let me go near their pancakes since the last cholesterol check-up."

"You are a naughty man. But I can do with one of their milkshakes."

"No coffee?"

"Oh, no, I'm going straight to bed after you tell me what happened with... that. If I dared to have caffeine I would stay up and be cranky and not even a true alpha would be able to reign me in."

John chuckled at her joke and made a very silly flourish. They had been spending too much time together due to their training under Chris and trying to reign in their cubs. Claudia was the one to call them that, particularly after being the receiver of the patented Scott McCall puppy eyes stare.

That was not a metaphor anymore.

They arrived at the little diner on 3rd and Broadway twenty minutes later. Six in the morning would be criminal for a place to be open Saturday but Minnie's had been 24/7 since old Minnie herself had opened it almost sixty years ago, only closing for Thanksgiving, Christmas and the 4th of July. She had had a couple of dates there when in high school, but right now the kids hung out in malls and cool places like that, so the old diner stayed alive mostly thanks to the grown ups that were incapable of cooking for themselves. If Stiles had managed to keep John away from Minnie's pumpkin and bourbon pancakes he had to be a really good cook, or really bad at monitoring his father.

"He hasn't had Scott smell you trying to see if you cheat on your meals, has he?"

"Not that I know of. But then again, he always brings food to the station so I can't just get home and say I've had food already, and it usually takes him three to six days of interacting with the new deputies to enlist them in the 'Keep Sheriff Stilinski eating healthy' brigade. Whenever I have a chance like this one I take it."

"And now I feel used."

"Please, Melissa, I can see you savoring the peanut butter and chocolate milkshake."

"How did you know I was going to order that?"

"Because that's what Scott used to order when I brought them here, back when they were still children."

"They still are children, except that one has very bushy sideburns and the other one apparently likes to crash his car in the middle of the woods."

"I still haven't forgiven him for that. He has to pay me back every single dollar I spent on getting his jeep fixed."

"You are loving that he's finally coming to you for help, don't you?"

His shoulders sagged, his breath sighed, and he was about to say something when the waitress - Jessica, a statuesque redhead - and they gave their orders: peanut butter and chocolate milkshake for her with an order of pancakes, sunny side up eggs and a cup of fruit; double stacked bourbon pancakes and an order of eggs and bacon, coffee and a glass of orange juice for him. When she looked back at him she saw him squaring his shoulders and settling for that easy smile. So no, he wasn't ready to break down yet.

"So, last night, what happened?"

"Well, Isaac and Scott went back to the crime scene to try and sniff out a scent or something, but apparently the body appeared out of nowhere according to their noses. Allison said that there are some hunters passing through right now, so we shouldn't be doing anything overt anyways, and Lydia and Stiles started doing more research - apparently he got more books on banshees and she said something about witches when she left the house after counseling my son on how to talk to girls." He sighed. "Lydia took notes on everything Isaac could tell her about the body, but you should call her and see if she has any more questions - she was particularly interested in the cause of death."

"It was the bleeding. The heart was removed after almost all the blood had been drained. I guess they were trying to avoid making a mess."

"I guess..."

Jessica appeared with her drinks. Melissa immediately sucked through the straw while John grabbed the sugar bottle ('That's how you know it's a good place, they don't have the packets') and put two spoonfuls of the white powder in the cup. A couple of sips later, he looked back at her.

"So now we have someone who bleeds people to death and then takes their heart out?"

"Well, it's the first one. Aren't you the one who says one's an event, two's a coincidence - ?"

"Three's a pattern, yes. But I don't even know if that qualifies for... this."

"I'm sure it does - otherwise how do you think Stiles would've managed to solve it? Well, all of them but we know that Stiles is the brains in that group..."

John shuffled in his seat again, and Melissa understood. She had been through the same thing.

"We should be able to help them. We need to do more."

"Well, what do we know? One body, we don't know if murdered or sacrificed, only that it was bled to death, and that Lydia wailed for it."

"We need someone who knows more than us."

"We should ask Deaton."

"And have him give us one of his significant glances and one of his non-existent answers?" John snorted "The man apparently thrives in not answering questions and making us squirm under his gaze. I mean, I know he's supposed to be one of the good guys but what is his endgame? What is his plan? This can't be only a way to teach the children - or us!"

"I agree that he should be more forthcoming - there are places where you can't use the Socratic Method, particularly when lives are in danger. But so far he's the only thing we got."

John agreed and they started eating their food. Melissa paid attention to him. She was waiting for the dam to break - he hadn't broken before because he had to be the cop and he had been in front of Chris Argent, and no matter how progressive or good hearted or good people were, a squabble of leadership between males would make them hide their true feelings. She wanted to be a safe haven for him, or at least someone with whom he could really talk.

No matter how hard you tried, talking to your children about these things never worked. Not even when your son is the one supposed to protect you.

"Wait, the kids said that the scent appeared out of nowhere?"

"Right. As if the body was contained somehow."

"Contained. And carried. Maybe they had a body bag? But I don't think those would be thick enough to contain the scent, particularly with noses as sensitive as a werewolf's."

"I know. I also thought of that, but I couldn't make sense of it - and then I thought of a box or maybe a container with padding, but then it would've been too difficult for the murderer to open it inside the dumpster, at five in the afternoon, and not draw attention to themselves."

"Aren't those areas usually empty?"

"Yeah, but there are cars going by - somebody would've been bound to see them."

"They could've thought they were just dumping something else. You know, hiding in plain sight."

"No - because you need to have a uniform in order to access those areas. Unless they were that good."

"Have you ever had any case of body dumping?"

"Not that I can recall - I've been going through some old cold cases though, trying to see if now that I know that the monsters in the dark are real maybe I can find another pattern, something that makes sense now. But that's a problem as well because if it makes sense to me, it'll make sense to Rafael and then he'll be onto me. I've been trying to muddy the waters in the case against Blake but he keeps pushing, and then last week he wanted to know all about that night with the Daehler kid and I didn't even know if I had to take something out or something so I just gave him everything. I can't recall anything particular but then again the dead of twenty odd deputies in one night by ravage and poisoning... Oh God..."

"He asked about that last night - he's been conducting interviews at the hospital because of our little trip to the woods. Roger was not able to get a legal term to stop him so I had to answer. Did you have video footage or something? I'm afraid he can get a picture of Scott as a werewolf or Jackson as an iguana."

"Iguana? Stiles called it a - what was it? Kanima?"

"Oh, I'm sure there's a technical term, but since he almost choked me with his tail I will never not call him an iguana, even to his face."

"Fair enough. Jesus, he tried to choke you? When?"

"When Gerard Argent controlled him? A day before the lacrosse game where Jackson died - on Gerard's orders, by the way."

"Good lord. Wait, Gerard told Jackson to kill himself?"

"Yeah."

"That night, that's the night when Stiles disappeared - was that Gerard too?"

"Yes." Melissa sighed.

"But... Argent! Argent didn't say anything! Stiles didn't say anything! He's my son!"

"I'm sure Chris didn't know about it - or thought Stiles would tell you. And for Stiles, he was trying to protect you. That's why they didn't tell us."

"But they are our sons! They are children! We are supposed to protect them!"

John hit the table with his fist and before all the patrons in the diner could look at him, he walked outside, tears trailing down his face. Melissa dropped a couple of bills on the table and went after him. She found him sitting on the gravel where he had parked his cruiser, crying. The whiteness of the morning light reminded her of the only other time she had seen John Stilinski cry, when he had reached the hospital to find out that his wife had died and his son had seen her die. That time the man had given a cry that had pierced her ears a memory that would never abandon her. Now he was hardened and stoic, but the tears were coming out nonetheless.

"I failed her, Melissa. I failed my Claudia."

"No, you didn't."

"I promised to her I would take care of our little boy. And look what happened: he went right into the lion's den and got himself swallowed whole. Heh, 'lion's den'. We should say 'wolf's den', shouldn't we? Now he has been kidnapped, beaten, manhandled, poisoned, killed, sacrificed! How can I go back to Claudia's grave and look at her? I failed her!"

"No, you didn't! First of all, the blame is on Stiles for not telling you." She raised his hand before he could answer her back. "Yes, he was trying to protect you, and yes, this means that they didn't trust us, but they are teenagers, they don't trust us by mere physiology. They are trying to find their place in the world and the lizard part of their brain tells them that they need to protect us, and that is easier to do that when we don't know because that means we are not afraid for them. Yes, it's stupid, it's idiotic, it's moronic, and it's the teenage thing to do. But now we know. Now we can protect them. Now we can trust them and let them know they can trust us back. It's what we can do."

John nodded slightly, still crying, and let himself be hugged. At least he still trusted Stiles, she thought. He was a much better parent that she would ever be.

She had not trusted Scott in the beginning after all.


	6. Lydia

"Lydia, honey, I'm back!"

Lydia jerked her head up - she had fallen asleep on her desk, books open, papers written, computer in an infinite loop as a screensaver. She hadn't expected her mom to be back so early Saturday morning.

Well, it wasn't. The sun was very well up, and she had fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, right before dawn. Distractedly she tried to make herself look a bit more presentable, but it was impossible in her condition.

"Lydia, sweetheart, are you OK?"

"What? Yes, mom, I'm fine."

"Are you sure? You don't look so good. Do you want an advil or something? We can go to the Juice Bar if you want."

"No, no... I'm fine. I really am."

She gave her mom that smile that was supposed to mean that everything was fine, and Lydia received the one she had come to associate with 'Good, normal, nothing wrong here'. She knew her mom cared, but not in the way she sometimes needed. Well, she had to make do with what she had.

"Lydia, what were you doing?"

"Nothing, mom, just working on a paper."

"What for?"

"History class."

Her mom took it with a smile and went to her own room, probably to take out all the shopping she did in her business trip and put it in the closet, arranging it based on fabrics, colors and situations to use it. It was a ritual she used to take part of whenever her mother came from anywhere, but now that she had mastered it (well, since she was twelve) she reserved it for the big shopping sprees, like New York and Paris. Not Los Angeles.

She grabbed the first book she could and started reading it again. Something about blood rites - blood is a very powerful conduit for magic, being the harbor of life. The problem with it is that is very unstable, since it is tied to the life of the living being where it was taken from. A willing donation is usually the most powerful, but it is too pure and can mostly be used only in magic of the nature, such as opening portals, making promises, things like that. A stolen one, however, can be used to counter the flow of natural magic and do anything from raising the dead to mind whammy people into slaves. But as anything stolen is not as powerful and therefore more quantities are required.

If someone had bled that guy all the way to the last drop, it was for a very powerful ritual, of very very contrary magic.

Lydia didn't want to think this way - that witches just had happened to walk into town and Stiles had randomly encountered one of them and now she was wailing for someone bled to death. She was leaping to conclusions - these were not the three sequential steps the Sheriff looked for when establishing patterns. Yet, it seemed oddly coincidental. Maybe it was the fierce overprotectiveness she had for her friends, and Stiles was now one of them.

Maybe it was the banshee speaking to her. That odd feeling - like fog was seeping up from the ground, her feet cold - started as soon as she saw the body, and now she couldn't waive it off.

"Lydia!"

She jumped, startled. Her mom was sitting right next to her - when had she come in?

"Yes, mom?"

"Lydia, are you alright? Are you having another episode?"

The worry on her mother's eyes was deep. It reminded her of the tears she saw her shed when she was unconscious in the hospital, and could watch herself from the corner of the room, blood dripping in the walls. She had thought it was a bad dream - a sequence of chemical reactions while her brain was trying to make heads and tails of her body being ripped apart by a werewolf - but now she wondered if it had been anything else.

"Lydia, please, don't lie to me."

How could she tell her? How could she tell her mother that she was a monster out of the horror books they would read when she couldn't sleep because her father had abandoned them?

"Mom, I'm fine..."

"That's a lie."

For the first time in a long time Lydia bit back the usual retorts that she had for her mother. She just looked away.

For the first time in a long time Monica Martin looked back at her into her eyes and held it. For the first time in a long time she wouldn't look away.

"Witches? Immortality? Thermodynamics of life? Irish mythology? Lydia, this is not History. This is something else."

Her mother was not dumb. One doesn't get a job as a PR manager without a certain amount of wit.

"Lydia, did something happen recently?"

"Like what? I got bit by an animal that looked not much like an animal not even a year ago, mom. I think I'm allowed to have weird hyperboles every once in a while."

"Losing nights of sleep because of it?"

Lydia just sunk into her chair, slumped. She couldn't argue against that logic - she had never stayed up late for something academic. Everything academic was always too easy.

For the first time in a long time Lydia had lost a battle against her mother.

"I'm calling your grandma."

"Wait, what?"

Her mother looked resolved, her hand touching the pendant she was wearing. The only token from Grandma Alicia that she kept in the house - besides the gifts Lydia received every year.

"Mom, you hate Grandma."

"Lydia! She's my mother!"

"And you hate her."

"That's not true."

"You don't talk to her, you don't write to her, and whenever she calls me you spend less than two minutes spewing vitriol at her. We haven't even seen her since my eight year old party. I know, I know! Still - you hate her."

"I don't hate her, I just don't like her. Besides, it's obvious that I need help with you, because this is not normal. And I am not calling your father."

Lydia was aghast. If she was willing to call Grandma before Dad something was going on. Something serious.

"Now, where did she say she was going to be this month? I need to mind time zones."

"Porto Alegre."

"Oh, good, so it is only four hours. I'll try to reach her right now."

And with those words she left.

Lydia liked her Grandma. Sure, she had moved from the companion that would visit several times a year to the woman who called her once or twice a month and would send her ostentatious gifts every year for her birthday and Christmas, but at least she would humor her whenever they were on the phone. She started her round-the-world trip a few months after Lydia had turned eight, and she was still traveling. She had always told Lydia that she wanted to see the world, and had even invited her several times. The animosity between her mother and her grandmother had become more evident the more she grew up. But it was true that they still cared about each other - her mother would always take the phone call first and talk to her even if it were for two minutes, and then Lydia would talk to her for an hour, maybe two. The opposite of love is not hate, Lydia, is indifference. She used to be one of the very few that Lydia would confide to about her intelligence - now it was an open truth thanks to her psychological breakdowns in the middle of the school. But having her mother call her because she was doing research about witches and immortal beings could not be good.

She would have to research her family tree apparently. All the things she had to do were starting to pile up.

She decided to take a shortcut and took out the letter Jennifer Blake had sent her from the prison. It was an apology for having tried to kill her, and an explanation of how she had become such a rampant murderer, and an explanation of why she had thought of killing her: apparently Lydia had seen the disturbance in the energy she was causing, meaning that she was impervious to her magic. Virgins, the first sacrifice, were to cloak her from all beings that could detect magic (animals, insects, witches, druids, werewolves) but it hadn't worked fully on her. She didn't know if it was because the Nemeton was reaching out to her or because her own nature as a Banshee allowed her to see beyond the dead. It basically told her nothing. But at least it was more than what she knew before.

She could hear her mother in the background. She was tempted of picking up the phone and snoop, but she knew that it wouldn't be long before she was part of the conversation.

So she took a pen and started writing. Hopefully the old Darach would have the answers she needed. Yes, a phone call would be easier, or even better visiting her, but she didn't know if she had the strength to face her. She had barely been capable of facing Peter, and part of it was because she basically had no interaction with him. Talking to Jennifer wouldn't do any good to her psyche.

She had almost finished the letter when she realized her mother had finished the phone call without giving her the phone. That was even weirder than usual - she would always give her the phone so she could at least say hello to grandma. Even more odd, she hadn't come back to her room at all. She got up and went after her.

She found her in the master bedroom, looking at the window. Seldom had Lydia seen her like that, like she was preparing herself for battle, like she was steeling herself against an oncoming storm.

"Mom? What is it?"

Her mother smiled. Good, normal, nothing wrong here.

"Nothing, honey. Your grandma is coming and will stay a couple of weeks with us. She'll be here as soon as she gets her affairs in order."


	7. Stiles (II)

When Stiles had texted Lydia telling her that Lorena had said yes to ice cream in the mall he expected a text back saying 'wear the red plaid shirt with one of the Ramones t-shirt' and maybe 'Dear God' or 'don't say something stupid for Pete's sake'. He had even hoped to get a congratulatory message from the strawberry blonde girl. He had not expected a text back saying that she would be there in twenty minutes, nor a text from Allison asking for his pants size, nor a text from Scott asking why Lydia had declared pack meeting in his house. Or one from Isaac asking why he needed a leather jacket.

"Scott, you are the alpha, make her stop."

"No."

"Scott."

"No."

"Scott!"

"Dude, you are my best friend, and you have a date. I am not telling Lydia Martin to stop trying to make you look better by her standards - which, if I recall correctly, you have been trying to meet since third grade."

"You have a nice collection of blazers, Stiles, why did you stop using them?"

"Because we were starting to spend too much time in the woods and I didn't want them to get ruined. That's why I went back to the plaid."

"Hm, I may have hope for you yet."

They had been at it for twenty minutes, maybe half an hour. Lydia had arrived first, taken all his clothes out of the closet and dressers and placed them on the bed, and started going one by one. Allison arrived with some of her father's pants that may fit Stiles, since they were of similar height. Isaac had brought his leather jackets - yes, plural, they were all gifts from Derek - and some of other stuff, including some of his scarves. Scott only brought the red hoodie that he had worn when bitten. He had never seen him Scott wear it again, and couldn't help but sniff it when he grabbed it, looking for Peter's scent or something. It smelled very strongly of Tide.

Finally Lydia settled for one of the t-shirts, Scott's hoodie, a black blazer and the jeans he didn't like because they had started to feel tight in the butt. He overruled the shoes for a pair of Converse 'in case I need to run from something supernatural, Lydia, I need to be prepared!' but sat down and let himself be touched in all the wrong places in his head to get his hair to behave. When they finally declared him ready Lydia looked like she had finished a science experiment with full marks, Scott was bouncing like whenever he got excited about something and Isaac actually said 'not bad'. He wanted to shoo them away so he could change back to his normal clothing but it was getting late so he gave up and got to his jeep. Before he left all four of them gave them a hug, Scott's was particularly long and touchy-feely but before he could ask he realized Isaac's nose scrunched at him differently after that. So he had been scent-marked.

What was his life?

He ended up wandering a little bit and found Danny standing near the Cinnabon stand.

"Danny!"

Danny actually did a double take when he saw him.

"What, what's wrong?"

"What happened to you?"

"Why? Is it too obvious?"

"Lydia? Are you guys going on a date?"

"No! I am going on a date, but with someone else -"

"And Lydia dressed you up. How much did you bleed?"

"A lot. Wait, how do you know?"

"I've been Lydia's Ken doll several times. Be glad it wasn't Jackson."

"I'm having all my ideas about him crushed by a sledgehammer right now, aren't I?"

"Yes, you are."

"OK, good to know."

"So, you are on a date?"

"Yes."

"Who is she? Or he?"

Stiles looked at Danny with what he hoped was not Scott's puppy eye expression.

"Stiles, you've been asking me if I found you attractive once a year for the past three years now. And I've seen you at The Jungle hanging out with Satin and her crew. The answer's 'No, I don't find you attractive, I find you annoying' but I am here for you if you need to talk about it."

"Thanks, Danny, that's so sweet. What about you big boy? A date with Alex?"

For the first time in what seemed to be a long time, Stiles saw Danny smile. He had stopped paying attention to him when Jackson had left for London, and even when Ethan was involved there was so much going on he hadn't stopped to check if Danny had been happy with him. He assumed he was, since he cried at his burial, which Lydia had forced him to attend - she was burying Aiden. It felt good inside, since Danny was still normal, was still not affected by the madness that was going on around town and seeing a normal human smile just brought him so much joy he could feel the darkness go away like a nocturnal animal hissing at the light.

"Stiles?"

"Oh, hey Lorena!"

"Wow, who Ken'd you up?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Dude, you were wearing a blue plaid shirt over an Attack on Jon Snow tshirt. Yes, it is that obvious."

"You watch Game of Thrones? You watch Attack on Titan?"

"I'm homeschooled, I have to get my entertainment somehow. And who are you, hunky dear?"

"Not interested, darling."

"Oh, so you Ken'd him up?"

"Nope, but I can vouch for who did. Danny."

"Lorena. So, you promised me ice cream, Stiles."

"That I did. If you please?"

Lorena wrapped her arm around his and they started walking. Before he finally turned to face her he saw Danny give him the thumbs up and then look at the crowd, evidently looking for someone. Alex' limp was easy to spot, though, so Stiles didn't worry.

"So, Lorena, when did you move in?"

"What makes you think I'm new around here?"

"I've lived here my whole life, attended all the public schools and Beacon Hills isn't that big of a town. Also, my dad's the Sheriff, so I definitely know everybody. And I don't know you."

"Impressive. We've been here for a couple of weeks now - you know, unpacking and stuff. My mom was the one that made us move - she's an art collector, and apparently some artist from nearby is starting his new collection and since my mom always wanted to open a gallery from the ground up, she took it as an opportunity."

"Wow, that sounds complicated."

"Well, the complicated part is to have an audience - right now we are in the building stage, so it's mostly getting permissions, blah blah blah. Maybe my mom and your dad will become acquaintances, if he handles the construction permits and stuff."

"Nah, he's mostly cop duty. There are others that specialize in that."

"Oh well. What about you?"

"Just a high schooler, trying to survive high school. Tough shit."

"I can't even imagine. I will never have the high school experience."

"Wait, you are not coming to school?"

"No, I said I'm home schooled. Religion issues."

"What kind of religious issues?"

She smiled at him and gave him a wink, then turned to look at Greenberg (who was manning the Ice Cream shop and gave her a very weird look) and ordered a Caramel Salt sundae. Not the most expensive item on the list, but at least he would be able to chose something bigger than a lemon pop. They got their orders and sat down in one of the plastic tables that every mall has and started eating.

"Witchcraft. That's why I'm homeschooled."

"Huh?"

"You said you were a practitioner."

"Magic, yeah, but not specifically witchcraft. I'm training to become a druid."

"A druid? Tough shit, you must know more stuff than I do - how long have you've been training?"

"Er... a month?"

"You've got to be kidding me? Do you know how long it takes for someone to become a druid?"

"A long time?"

"Fuck, are you sure you are being properly trained?"

"Not really... let's just say I'm kind of a special case..."

"And why's that?"

"Kinda not my secret to tell?"

"Fair enough. What else can you tell me about yourself?"

"Hm. I do good on school. I have ADHD. I play lacrosse but I'm a bench warmer. My best friend is the captain, though, or at least was last semester, we'll have a new scrimmage the beginning of next season -"

"I've never been to a lacrosse game. How does that work?"

So Stiles proceeded to talk about the game and how he had been the hero in their last one - before the death of one of the teammates and his unexplained resurrection. He also talked about himself, his dad, the non-existent social life in Beacon Hills, and he may or may not have jumped into tangential lines into several subjects completely not related to the date. Hopefully for him it seemed that she found that trait of his endearing rather than off-putting. She told him about her family and her traditions, about the bakery her grandma wanted to start, the art gallery her mom was starting, her uncles, her aunts, her adopted brother, apparently all of them moved to Beacon Hills. It was her grandma who had enforced the move, saying that family was the most important thing to have, and since she was the matriarch, they all followed her. Stiles understood, since the most important thing for him was his dad - and Scott, and he would die for them. Hell, he already had.

He was definitely liking her.

"Is it weird for you too?"

"What?"

"Dating someone who knows about... our stuff?"

"We haven't even talked about it!"

"I know, but still - I haven't had that many dates before, Stiles, because I'm always afraid people will think I'm a nutjob..."

"Well, I haven't had that many dates before because people already think I'm a nutjob."

"That's not true!"

"It is! Everybody knows I'm the weird son of the Sheriff. Most people pity him."

She laughed. She gasped when laughing and it almost looked like she was having an asthma attack and Stiles liked it nonetheless.

"I'm liking this, Stiles. You are funny. And cute."

"Good cute or bad cute?"

"Interesting cute."

"I'm still not sure that's good or bad."

"Well, we'll have to check the next date, won't we?"

"Are you asking me out on a second date?"

"Are you saying no?"

"I'm saying yes!"

She laughed again, and now Stiles laughed with her. She went and grabbed his hand, his cheek turned fire-engine red and she giggled.

Then she leaned and kissed him on the cheek.


	8. Derek

They've been sitting for twenty minutes, facing each other. He tried very hard not to stare, but he dared not to look away either. She, on the other hand, looked perfectly at home sitting with her legs crossed, the pencil skirt, the hard lines of her face and the black hair cascading on her back. She was not pitying him, or judging him, and yet he could not feel anything but shame and anger by looking at her. He wanted to kill Cora for forcing him to do this.

Therapy.

They've been at the clinic for a month now. Cora had told him she needed closure, and he accepted it. He thought she meant going there and filling all the paperwork but she had truly meant closure. So he got an apartment and a job as a barista in the only non Starbucks cafe in the area and started going to visit her every day in the afternoon. They had finally started getting to know each other when she suddenly said 'You need to see my doctor, she's awesome'. She had made those puppy eyes that reminded him of Laura and so he gave in.

He wanted to kill her now. He didn't know how much he could take.

"Excuse me, Dr. Remus, what are we doing here?"

"I don't know, Derek. You are the one who made an appointment."

"At my sister's behest. I am sure she has shared information with you about me."

"What she has said to me is not for me to share and more importantly, not for me to use when talking to another patient. Everybody begins with a clean slate."

"Then how do you know I'm not just fine and wasting your time?"

"Are you?"

Derek just looked at her, anger bubbling inside of him. She didn't change her expression at all.

He was a werewolf, damn it, he was supposed to be capable of instilling fear in mere mortals, particularly those aware of his abilities. But then he remembered the pair of kids that would laugh at him when he would threaten them and call him sourwolf to his face.

"No, I'm not."

"Good. Why don't you tell me something about yourself?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Whatever you want. It doesn't have to be related to anything. As long as you feel comfortable sharing it with me."

"Comfortable?"

She just stared back at him, waiting. He couldn't tell her anything that Cora hadn't told her already, and there was nothing he could share that would not show how much of a failure he was.

"I like pancakes."

"In general? Or do you have a particular preference?"

"Blueberry pancakes."

"And why is that?"

"I don't know, I just like them."

That was a lie - he liked them for a very particular reason. She just looked at him and waited.

"My father had a garden back home where he would grow a lot of things. From June to September the bushes would grow like weed and we'd have a surplus of berries. Me and Laura would pick them every Saturday and make jams and preserves with my mom and Grandma Thea, but we would always save a good portion of them just for pancakes. Every Sunday during those months we'd have stack after stack of them with maple syrup Uncle Phillip would bring from Maine and me and Laura would have competitions on how many pancakes we could eat before we'd feel bloated."

"Did you use to do a lot of things with Laura?"

"Lots. For a while I did everything with her. Laura was... she was amazing. She knew me like the back of her hand. She was always there, even if she was five years older than me. I think she saw me as her little project or something, because she was always worried for me. Even when she was a teenager and stopped hanging out with me that much, she would always take care of me. Even when she started training to become an alpha she would come and spend time with me. That's why she was with me, at the basketball game that night. It wasn't even a big game or anything - that's why I told everybody to stay home. She insisted..."

He hadn't realized he started choking on his own words. He remembered how he had convinced everyone to stay home because he was to leave the game with Kate Argent. Laura had insisted - she had never missed one game, even forcing her own boyfriends (and a couple of girlfriends) to come with her. She knew he had a relationship, but he hadn't told her with who - he wanted to. He was going to, that night.

The psychologist just kept looking at him. He wanted to hide, to squirm, to take his shame and run away with it until no one could see him be the spiteful creature he was.

He waited until the tears stopped flowing.

"What sport?"

"Sorry?"

"You said you were at a game. What sport?"

"Basketball."

"You were on the team. Were you any good?"

"I was the captain."

"How did you like it?"

"Basketball? I used to like it, until that night."

"Who taught you? Your father?"

"No. My uncle, actually. He was great at it too, and he didn't even use his abilities. He got an scholarship to Berkeley, but he dropped out - he said he preferred to learn how to manage the family business. Even if he wasn't going to be the alpha it was expected that he would become the family administrator. After all he was great with numbers."

"Were you close to your uncle?"

"At some point. He was a creep, sure, but he was alright. And then he was the only one to survive the fire that I knew of, so I would go visit him and talk to him. Had I known he was the one who killed Laura I would've killed him on the spot."

He stopped. She would not say anything to the authorities - not that they could charge him for killing Peter, he had done that already and he had come back.

"He... he would try and plot something all the time. That was what made him a creep. Sometimes he would try and make things better and he would fuck up ceremoniously. When his girlfriend died... he went on a rampage. He even left us for a year and when he came back he was different. More loyal, yes, but also more willing to do the dark things none in our family would talk about."

"Such as?"

"I don't know. But I am sure no one in my family knew how to come back from the dead by assaulting a banshee. No matter how you look at it that's pretty messed up."

"You could say it was his survival instincts. Have you done anything to ensure your survival?"

"Not anything like that!"

"I didn't ask if anything like that, just anything. After all, you were victim of a murder attempt."

"I was not the victim."

"Wasn't Kate Argent trying to wipe out the Hales?"

"Yes."

"Then you were a victim."

"No, I wasn't. I was - I am guilty of their deaths."

For the first time Derek saw a change in the glint of her eyes, but she didn't say anything. This was going to be the moment when she would start telling him that he was not the victim in the situation. He had heard it before many many times and he still didn't believe it then. If Laura hadn't been able to convince him, why would she?

"Why is that?"

"What?"

"Why are you guilty? Were you one of the arsonists?"

"What? NO!"

"Then what did you do?"

"I told her everything! I told her what happens when a werewolf faces a lunar eclipse! I told her of the family plans and then I had to go and convince them that I would be OK and that I needed to go to the game instead of following protocol! I had to throw a tantrum and be stupid and I'm the reason they are dead!"

He had raised his voice and raised himself and now he was shouting while pacing in front of her. She barely blinked. He found it infuriating.

"In other words, you were a teenager."

"I've met teenagers that are much better than anything I ever was."

"I'm pretty sure we all have. But that's not my point. Derek, do you know how well developed the teenage brain is? Do you know what is the first thing the teenage brain craves?"

He just shook his head.

"The teenage brain, particularly the one influenced by the modern western society, is in a stage of flux. The average teenager is trying to make a place for him or herself, trying to gain a sense of independence, trying to see how much he can bend and break the rules before they become his own. You wanted to violate protocol in a lunar eclipse because you wanted to go to a basketball game. That's the most teenage thing I've heard in a while, and I deal with teenagers all the time."

"Yeah, well, look where it got me."

"You've mentioned you've met teenagers better than your former self. Are they free of these characteristics?"

He thought of Scott manipulating him so he could manipulate Gerard. He thought of Stiles and his happy-go-trigger mentality. He thought of Erica and her need to establish her sexuality after feeling cured from her seizures.

He thought of Allison and how she had pursued her pack because she needed to prove herself to her grandfather.

"No..."

"Then we can safely say that that night you were not any different. You were a teenager. Just like every other night before. Were you a murderer any other night?"

"No..."

She just opened her arms, as if resting her case. She continued before he could gave her one of the retorts that always lingered in his mind.

"I'm not saying you are free of guilt, because no matter what I tell you you won't believe me. All that I can do is let you see those events for what they truly are. It's all we can do."

"I am guilty."

"I won't rob you of that."

"What?"

"Your guilt is your way to pay your respects. I won't take that away. But I will try to make you carry it better, so it doesn't interfere with your social relationships."

Derek didn't realize he was crying again. He just stood up and left and kept walking until he was in the middle of the woods where nobody could hear him and started wailing, sobbing, crying like he never had. He cried for his mother and his father, for his cousins and his brothers, his uncles, his aunts, his grandma, for Laura and Erica and Boyd. Because it was true. He was guilty, he had been responsible for their deaths and now he had that cross to bear for all eternity. It was the only way he could respect them. It was the only way he knew how to mourn them. He screamed, thinking of how dirty he had felt when he realized he had been used by Kate, and how disgusted he had felt when he had realized Jennifer had used him. How easy they had pushed his buttons. How they had manipulated him, no matter how hard he had tried to close himself up to them.

He didn't know how long he was there, crying. The snow had started to pile up, but it wasn't until Cora and Dr. Remus came to find him with a blanket and a cup of hot chocolate that he moved.

"C'mon Derek. Let's go. We can finally begin."


	9. Epilogue

"You liked him!"

"Is it wrong? Is it wrong that I liked him?"

"Not at all, girl, go you! But, I get to meet him in the next date - that way I can tell him that if he breaks your heart I will rip his out and use it in one of our rituals."

"Jeez, when did you become Brother Bear?"

Andrew just grabbed her and hugged her. The twenty year old had barely been her brother for six months and yet he cared for her like they had been siblings their whole lives. She wondered if maybe he was trying to atone for his mistake. No matter how much they had told him that it had been a shared responsibility he still blamed himself for his girlfriend's death after that spell. It had gone horribly wrong.

"I just want you to be safe. So, will I be able to punch him if he hurts you?"

"Dude, you are like a linebacker or something, you'll destroy the poor kid, I think I'm heavier than he is."

"Nah, unless he's barely made out of his bones."

"He does look like a Jack Skellington on ADD."

"Oh wow. You serious?"

"Yep. He's skinny."

"Well, then I will rip his heart out with my bare hands."

"Andrew, stop joking about that. Just because Grandma let you take the heart out this time doesn't mean she'll let you do it again. Besides, everybody thought you were going to be all grossed out after, you know..."

His smile faltered, but stayed anyways.

"Yeah, it was gross. But hey, it means I'm more part of the family, doesn't it? Although now I definitely fear that I won't be able to get a job as an engineer."

"You didn't finish your degree."

"I was going to!"

"No, you weren't!"

"Yes, I was!"

"Andrew! Lorena! Come downstairs and help us!"

Lorena rolled her eyes as they both started walking towards the kitchen and down the basement. Halfway through they started hearing the muffled screams and whimpers, meaning Uncle Ben and Uncle Tom had found someone else to be part of their rituals.

"Coming!"

"Good. I am no longer strong enough to do all this, the age is catching up with me."

"Grandma! You are barely sixty-five!"

Melinda Warren looked at her granddaughter with a raised eyebrow. Andrew immediately opened his mouth -

"And you don't look a day over forty!"

Now she looked menacingly to him and he paled, but then she just patted him in the chest with a sardonic smile.

"You are learning, my boy. You are learning. C'mon, help me with these bad boys."

In one of the walls two men and one woman were held by manacles that they rattled violently. They were gagged, so they could barely produce any sound that wasn't muffled or distorted, and their eyes had the purest form of hatred Lorena had seen in a pair of human eyes. They knew what was going on.

"Hunters, grandma?"

"How did you know?"

"The eyes. They know what's going on - and they hate us because of it."

"Well, they do have every right, we are going to kill them after all. Yes, dear, hunters, who apparently came to check in with the local one, the daughter of our security consultant."

"Oh really? Good call on the pie, then."

"I know, right? I wasn't going to pass any opportunity and look how well this one paid. A couple more moons and we'll have a pair of hunters under our thumb."

"And what about these three?"

"Well, we need to confirm what Hale told us about the guardians being a bunch of teenagers. Since Samhain is so close I was thinking of also testing the Nemeton as well - see how much it likes them. Oh, darling, how did it go on your date?"

"It was fantastic!"

"Really? I'm so glad! I've been telling your mother you need to get out more. So, is he really a practitioner?"

"Well, yeah, but he said he was training to become a druid, not a witch."

"Hm, a spirit of nature, we could do with one of those, is he powerful?"

"I couldn't tell - there was a moonsinger in the mall, and his or her light was blinding, I couldn't get a read on anything, not even on who the moonsinger was."

"A moonsinger? We should try and get that, they can come in handy. Ah. Well, we'll talk about out it at dinner, darling, right now we need to prep our pets. Fetch your mother, will you? She said she was going to spend all day at the gallery. Andrew, fetch me the tools."

Lorena went upstairs while Andrew went to the cabinet on the other side of the room. At the sight of the athames, the hunters started rattling more in a desperate attempt to escape.

All they could do was gather dust on top of their heads.


End file.
